Through Her Eyes
by Cassandra or Bonkers pehaps
Summary: Basically, a story of the circumstances soruonding Mystique's untimly demise, from her own point of veiw. Read and REVIEW. All critique welcome


I sat in the limousine, my back resting on the soft black leather, still new; I could tell from it's fragrance. My gaze traveled briefly to the black tinted windows, and the world outside. It was night, a slight, cool breeze rustling the tree leaves ever so slightly, back and forth, back and forth. One might be tempted to watch such a thing for hours, if there was nothing better to do.

I turned my attention back to the woman sitting besides me. Her skin was wrinkled with age, white hair matching the monotonous color of her eyes. The mutant Destiny sat beside me, and I waited for her to speak. Once, long ago, we had been the closest of friends. For her I gave up my lifestyle, or at least toned it down dramatically. She had seen me without the blue skin, and bright yellow eyes; Features that startled everyone at first, even those who tried their best to hide it. She had not been concerned with my past, my wrongs, my obvious lack of morals. Yes, we had been very close at one time. But then life, fate, interfered, as it always does. Her visions, or at least how other's interpret them, bring no end of trouble, one way or another.

Still, I sat there now, separated from the blistering summer heat by the vehicles air conditioning system, waiting for her to speak. Finally she obliged.

"Your fate, yours and Rogue's, is in the hands of the mutant Apocalypse" Those few words, nothing but a short sentence really, would change everything. I had heard of Apocalypse, or at least of the trouble his follower seemed to be making. How could I not, if a situation involving both Xavier and Magneto, together, arose? How long had I relied on carefully gathered information, to ignore such situations as the one unfolding now?

I thanked her and left, tucking her words away carefully in my mind. They stayed with me. When I caught the mutant Mesmero trying to invade, control, my mind, I did not kill him, as I could have, for I am able to kill a man with my bare hands. Nor did I send him scurrying away to his master, thankful to still be alive. Instead I listened to what he had to say, and I thought, remembering the words of my old friend. Cautiously I nodded, agreeing to his terms. I did not trust the man; Those who can play with the mind, whether it is the sainted Charles Xavier, or the infamous Mesmero, always bare watching. Still, in such a situation, the most powerful mutant to ever live is an ally worth having.

He took control of Rogue's mind, and I let him. I helped him, guided her as she took the powers of mutants, X-Men, brotherhood, even Magneto's Acolytes. I let her take my own, without so much as a word of protest. I was a fool. How could I not see what it was leading to, how could I believe the flimsy lies? True, they made sense at the time, but one such as I should have known better.

We made our way to Tibet, with Mesmero now. Up the steep mountains we climbed. I did not protest the bitter cold as I may have, nor did I object to the jagged peaks, or the snow falling down upon us. Wolverine and Sabretooth caught up with us halfway, but Mesmero delayed them, and we reached the destination first.

"I have brought you what you need to set you free, the shape-shifting mutant called Mystique" I was suspicious, he had not mentioned this. What else was he lying about, what more was he hiding? I hesitated, almost changed my mind. But then he said it, talked of how Apocalypse always rewards his followers, and once again my mind flashed back to the limo, those words, and I agreed.

I changed my form to that of a snake, a cobra to be exact. It is a simple thing to turn into another human. Even a form much larger than my own I can keep up for days at a time. An animal is different; I could feel my organs shift and change into that of the slithering reptile, and it was anything but pleasant. A few minutes was the most I could stay this way. It would be enough. I made my way through the small opening shown to me, and once again took my true form. A saw what I was to put my hand on, and once again I hesitated. It seemed so simple, too simple. It all felt wrong. I ignored my first instincts, did as I was told.

The pain was unbearable, and immediate. I felt a rush of light, energy, around me, but I was only half aware of it. Everything was pain, I felt as if the life was being drawn out of me. I may have screamed. Then it ended, as suddenly as it began. I heard the doors open but felt nothing; Numb as stone.

A stand here, unable to move, unable to even breath. But I can see and hear everything. I'm sure they don't know. Logan, or Wolverine as he is called, enters, not giving me so much as a second glance before running over to his precious Rogue. I watch and wonder; If the situation had been reversed, if she has been the one trapped as a stone, and I was laying motionless on the floor, would his reaction have been the same? Of course not. He would have gone to her, tried desperately to revive her. Only then would he have gone over to me, his face full of anger, instead of the worry it bares now. He would have been demanding answers from me, even before his attention turned to Apocalypse, as it has done now.

He lunges toward the ancient one, and is easily repelled, as if he was a fly, a mosquito maybe. If it was not for his healing ability, Wolverine would have been long departed from this world, with all the stunts he pulls. Then again, I suppose he would not behave the way he did without it. It must be nice, to know that your body can so effortlessly heal from almost anything you put it through; I will never know, especially not now.

He throws them all away as if they were dolls, slight annoyances and nothing more. Not even the oh so great Magneto can stop him, nor the man who calls himself the strongest telepath on earth. They are all nothing, compared to such raw power. We all are. I was not wrong to try to take his side, though I see now that I was used and thrown away, as I have done to others many times before. Karma I suppose. Try as they might, they will never be able to stop him. In all likelihood, trying will just get them dead.

I wonder now, as I watch them out of the corner of my eye, for I am not truly facing them, and I can neither feel, nor move. They are all lying there, unconscious for the moment. They will wake up soon, and when they do, they will have to decide what shall be done with me. In their position, I would leave myself here for all eternity. It is the wise thing to do; Eliminate your enemies, or at least leave them if someone has done it for you. I have never been more then a manipulative enemy, untrustworthy ally at most. When opponents clash as much as we have, you do not help the other when they fall. It is the first rule of survival. I watch and wait now, to see what they will do.

At the Institute, wires and cables connected to me, to the stone. I was right in one regard; Magneto and his brood left without a word, as if I did not exist. Not Xavier of course. His conscience would not allow him to leave me there, though protests could be heard. "Let her die", "She deserves it", "Have useful information", "It would be wrong".

I heard everything they said, though they seem convinced I could not. The tests are over now. Xavier and Jean tried to pry into my mind, and could not. How easily they forget my mental defenses, pronouncing that there is not a spark of life in me. Do they not realize that I am here, that I can hear every word, that I can see them? The mental block that has helped me so much in the past is an enemy now. They think I am a stone statue and nothing more.

I wanted to scream in frustration when they said that, but I cannot. They gave me to the brotherhood, where I am now. The house is as it always has been, unkempt, unclean, a mess if there ever was one. The mutants who live here do not seem to care. Neither had I when I controlled them, at least not enough to make them do something about it.

They treat me as a toy, a thing for Toad to dance with, to put his disgusting, discolored tongue on, a thing to use in a prank. No respect. I wonder, would they do the same if they knew I could see and hear them? That I know of everything they are doing? Has this always been on their minds, or is it just idle boredom? I would murder them all If I could.

They've stopped now, thanks to Wanda, but I have no illusions; They will continue their games when they have the chance. I hear a loud crack, a sound that is familiar to me. Wanda returns, attacking someone standing behind me. I think I know who. My guess is proven correct as I hear my son speak.

"She's my mother" What are you doing Kurt? I think as he teleports away, taking me with him. Why do you care? We are in his room now, back at the Institute. He is speaking to me and I can't help but think: Would he be saying these words to me if I wasn't a stone? I doubt it. Stone doesn't have the power to hurt, to cut into your heart like a sharpened knife, to leave scars enough to last a lifetime. Words, especially from one that you care about, can.

I think back to the past. The job with Count von Wagner was a straightforward one, and I had completed it without any trouble. However, when playing a role one must play it well; A pregnancy was not what I had counted on. When Magneto asked for the child I obliged. It was of no use to me. Only later would I learn of what he had done. Even then, when I found out what Magneto had been doing, I did not do what I did so much out of worry for my child. Guilt did not wrack my conscience then. Instead it was mainly fear of what he would do with the information he gathered that drove me to take Kurt back. When I was forced to throw him in the river I didn't even search for him. After all, what could one such as I do with a small child?

Perhaps it was these thoughts that drove me to agree when Destiny suggested we adopt a child. Maybe I was trying to prove to myself that I could be a mother, that I wouldn't leave my child the first opportunity I got, as I did with Graydon, or throw him in a river like I did Kurt. Turns out I failed with her too. Guess I'm not motherhood material after all. Who would have guessed?

My daughter, for I still do think of her as that, enters the room. I can feel her anger boiling over, and listen as she berates Nightcrawler for bringing me here. I can't say that I blame her, with all I have done. It wasn't fair to her. But then again, when has that ever stopped me? Life isn't fair, it's what you make of it.

I can feel myself cry, though I am unable to sense the tear running down my cheek. Kurt can see it though. I know because once again I am in the room, Xavier saying the same thing as before. The one called Beast suggests that my tears were nothing other than condensation. I want to laugh at the irony, but of course I cannot move my mouth. I am trapped behind this mask of stone, unable to do anything. Kurt suggests what I have known all along, that even now I am still blocking him from my thoughts. They disregard those words.

If I was one of their own they would not give up so quickly. They would not shrug it off, they would try harder. But I am not, and they are already doing far more than I would for them. It still hurts to know nobody cares. Well, almost nobody.

I have been moved once again, this time to a pagoda, or whatever one of these structures is called. The view is a welcome change. Still, it is frustrating to have no control over your own body, to have others do as they wish. Kurt is pacing, waiting anxiously. I wonder what, or who, he is waiting for.

Agatha. Of course, why hadn't I thought of it before? Not that it would have made a difference, but it still bothers me. Perhaps she can help me. Then another thought enters my mind. Does Xavier not know of her too? Why then, did he not think to call for her? Was it that, like me, the thought did not enter his mind? Or did he dismiss it, deeming it would be better for me to remain in this form? There is much of him I do not know. I locked him in a cell after all, so the idea would not seem so far-fetched.

I pull myself out of these thoughts. The woman is speaking now, and I must listen. What else can I do? As I, and apparently my son, had hoped, she presented a solution. Rogue would need to absorb my powers, to free me from this stone prison within my own body. As she speaks Rogue approaches. It is up to her now, my fate rests is the hands of the daughter I have so wronged. Perhaps if I could do it all again I would not, but I am unsure of that. I know myself all too well.

She refuses, and Kurt tries to convince here. It would be the right thing to do, he tells her. The irony of it all: I have always looked down with contempt on the do-gooders who say those words. In her situation I would walk away right now, and yet I pray she does not. If not for my influence she would have not have paused to help me, where now she says no. I am the one who has always done only for my benefit, no matter what the cost, to me or to others. An animal's first instinct is to survive and thrive. It is the human mind which allows us to do more, helping others at our own risk. Now I wait, hoping she will choose to go against my most basic beliefs.

Finally she turns and walk towards me. I know from her gaze, before she even moves, what she will do, and still I am unable to stop it. Strong hands push me, and the weight of my stone body breaks the sides of the structure, sending me falling down the bluffs beneath. Even my son, with his powers of teleportation, cannot stop it.

I can feel now, as I have not for days. I can feel my body breaking in half, my fingers detaching themselves from my hand. It is not the flesh and blood pain I am use to, but it is pain nonetheless. My leg goes flying, hitting a crag in the bluffs and breaking into even smaller pieces. A deep crack develops along my right arm as it slams into the ground.

I can still see, my head now turned in the direction of the cliffs. I can still hear, my son sobbing a few feet away. He knows I am dead, that now there is no way to bring me back. My body has broken into a thousand little pieces, and nothing can bring me back again. Why am I not dead then? Why won't my soul leave this broken stone? Even now I am not free.

Kurt has left, a loud crack signifying the exact time of his departure. The others have too, probably. I am alone, utterly so. Will I lie here for all of eternity then, eyes fixed on the bluffs that destroyed me? I cannot even close my eyes for a moment, a much needed respite. Instead I watch them, noticed the small bits of moss, the flecks of dirt. Is this my fate, to watch as the years pass and the moss slowly envelope the stone? Will it eventually cover even me?

What is Apocalypse doing? Are the others still trying to stop him? I will never know. I have wondered, once or twice, idly, whether anyone would mourn my death. I'm sure others have too. How many could really say that the answer is no? Perhaps my son is bothered, but I doubt anybody else cares. They are probably breaking out the bottles of champagne right now. After all, a manipulative mutant, one who has hurt many of them, at some point, is gone. I will be forgotten, as if I had never existed.

Except that I do exist, and I am still here. I have forever now, to look at the same cliffs, and hear the same birds calling from above, and ponder my life, and all the things I have done wrong.


End file.
